The Fly House (The UtopYA Collection)

by Misty Provencher

  Flesh growled, his jowls drooping in conjunction with his brow. "What are you talking about?"

  "Human? Did you say human?" Impulse asked. Span threw his hands in the air.

  "By Ahanas! You have no idea?" Span raved. "Your overseers are worthless! They haven't told you that your blood line is to be auctioned? That our quotas are now nine dragons per season? They've created shortages for all of us, to justify selling us like animals! We are nothing but their animals and they intend to sell us off for their profit!"

  Flesh and Impulse visibly reeled. Their eyes darted to Shown and Diem for validation and both Rhas nodded gravely.

  "It's the truth," Shown said.

  "How can it be?" Impulse said. "If you even deliver nine eggs to my House for incubation, there is no room for error!"

  "What do you mean even deliver?" Flesh said. "As if I don't do my part? As if I am a Rha who sells to the Hope Market?"

  "As if you don't?" Span said. "Do you mean that your skirts are clean if you only sell to a Rha who sells to the Market? The Rha in between is what saves you?"

  "It is entirely different," Impulse said.

  "Only because the two of you are entirely incapable of selling on the Market yourself," Span shot back.

  "I am an honorable Rha!" Impulse shouted.

  "As am I!" Flesh roared.

  In the hotbed of a second, Impulse signaled down his dragon with a whistle. Cirque came roaring out of the sky, mouth open, aimed straight at Span. From across a cloud, Soar shot so fast toward his own master that Diem could only register him as a blur.

  "Call them off!" Diem shouted, but it was too late. Soar slammed into Cirque with his wide underbelly. Soar, being the size of thunder cloud and faster than the lightening from it, sent Impulse's dragon barreling backward, the bowls of its head and tail rolling in the air.

  "Call them off!" Maeve shouted as Soar reared up again toward the other dragon.

  "Remove your offense!" Span growled to Impulse. The Hot House's Rha's eyes were glued to his Echo dragon, but his expression was of utter defeat. His lesser dragon could throw sound and manipulate the weather, but it was unlikely in this type of fight, that the dragon would even get to use its skills to an advantage. Soar was the broadest and fastest of all dragons. Cirque would die trying to defend his master and himself, and he would die quickly.

  "I remove it!" Impulse yelped. Span whistled a release to Soar. The huge dragon shot past Cirque, sending the Echo dragon twirling through the air like a leaf in a draft.

  Span slammed his fist on the gorne stump beside him. "Don't you ever bring your dragon upon me again!"

  Impulse's narrow face still pointed toward the sky, but the apple bobbed in his throat as he swallowed the humiliation. "I too am an honorable Rha!" he squeaked.

  The tension buzzed in the air as the dragons resumed their peaceful surveillance pattern overhead. Diem noticed that Maeve had backed even closer to him in the clash. He dipped his head down to her ear.

  "It's best if you go back to the shack. I will be there shortly," he said. There was no sense in having her involved and the other Rhas would undoubtedly ask for her to take leave when they began discussing their plans of defense. Still, Diem was more than shocked when Maeve didn't argue with him. She nodded and turned away, probably relieved, and made for the shack without another word.

  "I believe," Shown said, once she was gone, "that we are all guilty of trying to survive, but to keep our Houses safe now, we must put aside what has been done and focus instead upon what lies ahead."

  "Agreed," Diem said.

  "Agreed," Flesh grumbled. Span gave a cranky nod and Impulse kept his eyes on the circling dragons overhead.

  "We have nine dragons to deliver this season," Diem began.

  "Where did you find nine?" Span asked, his eyebrows cresting. Diem wiped his hand over his face.

  "There was an unexpected catch..."

  "And none were given to Breed House?"

  "To have them go missing like they usually do?" Diem growled. Shown cracked his knuckles, a soft popping sound.

  "We have nine dragons for this Season. That is what is important right now," he said.

  "No, what is important is that there are suddenly nine," Span replied. "If there can suddenly be nine this Season, couldn't there suddenly be nine next month as well? How many more dragons does Fly House have that it has not shared with the rest of us?"

  "There are no more," Diem said, but his mind lingered on the hoarde and the eggs Phuck had buried only yards away. To admit to any of it, however, could put his House in jeopardy. The only thing his honesty would get him was to have the hens and eggs sold and profited by other Houses. He kept his mouth shut.

  "I'm sure that is true," Span drawled. "As you've proven yourself to be consistently forthcoming, in business matters and in personal matters as well."

  Diem squared his shoulders. He knew Span was referring to a Link with Wind, but Diem would not speak of a Link that was never even his idea. He did not have to make excuses to Span.

  "Gentlemen," Shown said, "we can either spend this time digressing to one another's shortcomings, or we figure out how we will defend ourselves and our Houses against the Plutian harvest. Which would you rather do, since we do not have time for both?"

  All the Rhas sat back from one another, the circle expanding, shoulders rolling, puffs of breath dispersed. None of them looked upon the other, until Impulse spoke in a hush.

  "We are proposing battle on them, aren't we? Is there any other way?"

  "The Ice House is hardly ready for that proposition," Flesh added, rubbing a hand along his wide belly.

  "We must all be ready," Diem said. There was a resounding snap from the spindlings, but the Rhas settled again when they realized it was only the tree burdened with the Cork dragon and it did not give way. Bark stared back at the humans, stoic, from the oppressed branch wavering only a few feet from the ground. "Or we must at least make ourselves as ready as we can."

  "It will take all of us, together, if we have any chance at all," Shown said. Span's eyes glinted.

  "The only chance we have is if we can outnumber them. We will need to locate the wormhole through which they travel and seal it."

  Flesh harrumphed. "As if we have not all been looking."

  "We have located one," Shown said. "But our overseer indicated, while drunk, that there were two."

  Impulse's face brightened. "One is all we need!"

  "Not if there are two," Span said. His own eyes tightened down beneath his brow.

  "We don't have the numbers to wage a war on their planet," Flesh grumbled. "We don't know the terrain, the population, their weapons...or if we could even survive in their atmosphere. We could explode the moment we reach it. But even if none of that matters, which it does, if we are able to travel through the hole to Pluto, then we leave our Houses vulnerable if there is a second wormhole. The Plutians could swoop in and kill our people. Or seal us out."

  "Seal us out?" Impulse's whole body fluttered. "Trap us in space? They can be permanently sealed? Are you certain? How do you know this?"

  "How do you not?" Span growled.

  Before another fight could begin, Shown spoke of the wormhole uncovered on the Hold House lot, detailing too how the trans was loaded. The Rhas stepped in closer, their bodies creating a tight circle as they listened. The dragons' wings cast shadows and created a breeze as they glided about overhead.

  "So we must guard this wormhole." Span rubbed his chin. "But what if there are more than even the two? We must think on it."

  "It's possible," Diem said, "but we can only work with what we know for sure. The number of wormholes is less important for now, than how we will handle the Plutians that may come through them."

  "With their Gall dragons." Flesh shivered.

  "Yes, what about that, dragon trainer?" Impulse said. "Can you control their Galls as you control ours, Rha Diem?"

  "No," Diem said. "But we do not know if the Plutians even h
ave Gall dragons."

  "Know? Of course we know! They annihilated our civilization!" Impulse drew himself up so narrow and tall that he was just a sliver of a man with a point of a nose.

  "That's what we are told, but has any one of you ever seen a Gall dragon with their own two eyes?" Diem asked. The Rhas rubbed their chins and glanced between one another, but none spoke. "We've all heard the legends of them, but we've never actually seen them."

  "It is our death, if you are wrong," Flesh said. Span leaned forward, palms on his knees.

  "But it will be our freedom, if he is right!"

  "We are still outnumbered, if they have dragons—any dragons," Shown said.

  "And how will we fight when ours do not obey us?" Impulse added.

  "I will teach you how to re-train your dragons to fight to their best abilities," Diem said. He already knew that even a whole season would not be enough to get all of the dragons back to their optimum abilities. "If you do as I say, you will be able to control them, the way I am able to control them. But in return, I want your vow."

  The Rhas collectively shuffled their feet. Diem was sure they hadn't expected a price upon his knowledge at this crucial point. However, what he intended to ask for was barely payment, only a promise that could be broken with hardly a thought to it.

  "Well, what is it?" Flesh asked.

  "That we will defend one another, before ourselves," Diem said.

  "Done," Shone said, but Span stepped away from the circle, shaking his head.

  "What kind of foolishness is that?" he said. "To protect someone else before myself? Myself? We are Rhas! Of all men, we all know the responsibility we have to our Houses. How can you ask that I give up the protection of my own people and make another House my primary concern?"

  "We are all our own people," Shown said. "The Houses need to come together, if we expect to win and the Rhas must set the example."

  "Exactly," Diem said.

  "There is no other choice, is there?" Impulse asked.

  "Not if we hope to succeed," Shown said with a dry smile.

  "I would agree," Flesh said, rising off his stump.

  "I agree as well." Impulse fretted with his upper lip. "I suppose."

  "Tomorrow evening, then," Diem said. "After dark. We will solidify plans and train."

  "You will teach us your secrets of training?" Impulse whispered, his eyes roving to his circling dragon overhead.

  "I will," Diem said. Shown nodded. Span's eyes narrowed and flashed. Impulse gulped and Flesh sucked in a string of saliva that surely would've run down his chin from his dangling mouth. The Rhas disbanded then, calling down and mounting their dragons before launching into the sky.

  ***

  Maeve was relieved to walk away from the circle of men and their dragons. It overwhelmed her to be riding dragons, and to know that the Earth was controlled by Plutians, and to be tagged as someone's Intended—which had to mean something pretty fucking substantial, considering how people reacted to it. She felt as though she'd been tossed into a bizarre fairy tale, but at the very best and very worst part. She entered the cabin and shoved the door closed behind her, just the same as she closed her mind on the craziness of it all. It wouldn't do her any good to—

  A burst of flame hit the wall above the bed. Maeve felt the heat of it and dove opposite, to the floor. Disoriented, her eyes searched for the source and found the animal, crouched across the room, near the water bucket. It looked as terrified as she was.

  "Holy shit," Maeve murmured. "What are you doing in here?"

  The blush-colored dragon blinked and belched a second splash of flame that charred the loose threads of Diem's bed, curling them up like brittle ribbons of molten glass. Maeve couldn't relax her widened eyes, but she had the sense to keep her mouth shut. The young dragon was the size of a small pony, but it cowered in the corner of the room, positioning itself to sear Maeve's face off at any second. She was sure that any sound she made would direct another fire bolt in her direction.

  Lying there, half on her side and half seated, her knees slightly bent to one side in front of her, she noticed the dragon was panting as quickly as she was. The thing was squashed against the wall, its nostrils flared, its eyes anchored to her.

  Maeve drew her feet slowly beneath herself. The dragon watched, but didn't shoot any flames. Its eyes were crocodile green and, being dragon's eyes, Maeve thought they would be more mystical, but they were simple and clear and easy to stare into. When the animal blinked, the lids drew shut from the outside edges in. The tempo of the dragon's breath slowed after a while and its body relaxed. It licked its eyes with a long flick of its tongue and shuffling its feet to a more comfortable position. Maeve smiled at it. It reminded her of an enormous ugly cat, even though its eyes and kernelled skin leaned more toward it being some kind of reptile gone wrong.

  "Hey, c'mere," Maeve said softly, tapping the floor beside her. She winced, waiting for the furnace blast, but the dragon just sat in its corner, its eyes flicking from her to her hand on the floor. Its chin listed to one side. It blinked.

  "It's alright," Maeve whispered. "Come on."

  She was shocked when it actually moved. The dragon ventured out of its corner, one taloned foot scraping the floor after the other. The dragon continued toward her at its wary pace, skittering to a halt at intervals to sniff the air in her direction.

  Maeve made sure to stay still. Part of it was because she was a little too freaked out to move. What the hell was this thing going to do when it finally reached her? Burp her into a brisket?

  The dragon ambled closer and Maeve forgot all about being charred. Up close, the animal was even more magnificent than she'd thought. It was like a miniature version of Diem's dragon, though the prisms were not as prominent yet beneath the wings that bud from its sides; the tough plates on its neck and back a little more pliable, as if they hadn't hardened to their final strength. The dragon looked up at Maeve and she was caught in the magnetism of its round eyes.

  The drawbridge inside Maeve, made with a material heavier than stone, began to drop. The young dragon stared into Maeve and Maeve stared back, as if she and this dragon were each doors, opened and leading into one another. It was a beautiful and terrifying tangle of everything Maeve had ever felt in her life, reflected back to her through the dragon's gaze. She was mesmerized.

  Then the dragon's tongue slipped from its mouth and flicked over its eye. The moment broken, Maeve laughed and the dragon drew its head back curiously.

  Maeve reached out, her palm toward the floor and her hand drifting below the height of the dragon's chin. She extended her hand a bit more and the animal scooted away. Maeve froze, but she kept her hand hanging in the air, waiting. She didn't believe for a second that this animal would allow her to lay her hands on it, but then, the dragon swooped its head beneath her palm. Maeve sucked in a breath as she felt its skin against hers.

  Soft, not slimy at all, and warm, but not nearly as warm as she expected. A rumble emanated from within the dragon, a purr similar to the grinding gears of a malfunctioning car engine. Maeve had no idea what to do next. She just sat, swirling her fingers on the animal's head, hoping that something would come to her.

  It didn't, but luckily, it came to the dragon instead.

  The dragon put one clawed foot on her thigh. She tensed and the thing stalled. Maeve forced herself to relax and the animal slowly climbed into her lap. The dragon was heavy and Maeve grunted, but she sat still and let the thing circle on her legs before it dropped, wrapped into a ball, and let out a resigned sigh.

  Stuck beneath the weight of the dragon, Maeve decided to stay put, since there was nothing else she could do. She leaned her head against the wall with a thunk.

  Her legs got restless.

  Her butt went numb.

  The damn dragon didn't move.

  Maeve watched the little balloon of skin expand and deflate between its shoulder blades. The balloon pushed against the soft plates of its back with each breath.
It made her feel inexplicably tender toward the animal. She counted twenty one triangular spikes lining its spine to the tip of its tail. She counted four claws on each foot; they were approximately two inches long, curled and shiny black. Its skin was the deep blush color of purpling embarrassment.

  But what drew her in was its eyes. Not the deep green color or the fact that there were softer, lighter green figures painted on either side of each iris that seemed to dance when it blinked. What got Maeve, what really got her, was the way the lids closed horizontally and an extra set of lids drooped down over it all, gently, just like a child fighting a losing war with sleep. Maeve wanted to coo and stroke the beast in her lap, but didn't, as it was still capable of blowing a burning hole through her.

  She sat on the floor, her aching back to the wall and her stiff legs burning beneath the dragon's weight, until the door of the shack finally opened. The dragon didn't even stir as Diem's boots crossed the threshold. Maeve watched Diem, first as his eyes scanned the room and then as he whipped around and spotted her sitting on the floor behind him. He looked suspicious, or maybe it was worried, until he took in the whole of the scene in front of him.

  His gaze turned to awe. Then fell to dread.

  "That is the heathen," he whispered. Maeve just stared at him. She didn't have a clue of what Diem was referring to and wasn't sure that if she spoke, it wouldn't startle the dragon. Diem turned, pacing away with his hands on his hips. "Oh, this can't be happening."

  "What?" The word cracked from Maeve's throat.

  "The heathen...he is the only male from the horde Forge is watching over. The overseer knows of him. This dragon is meant to fertilize some eggs before it is to be bartered for a decent wealth for our overseer."

  "So?"

  "So, this heathen has just become your dragon!" He struggled to keep his voice low, from waking the dragon, but Maeve saw his desperation as clearly as the muscles that rose up in his shoulders and along his back. "There is no selling him now!"

  "He's only sleeping on my lap. It's no big deal."

  "You belong to one another!" Diem's whisper hissed. He swung away from her, running a hand through his hair. When he looked back, he stared down at the slumbering dragon and then upon Maeve. She saw the worry in his gaze as clearly as she saw it melt away, his eyes softening at the sight of woman and beast. He squatted down so he was on eye level with her, but an arm's length away. "How did you do that?"